


Something as True

by SugarSpiceandCurseWords



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dr Kalonia as Dear Abby, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9409907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarSpiceandCurseWords/pseuds/SugarSpiceandCurseWords
Summary: An illness knocks Poe out of commission for a few days and helps both him and Finn come to some significant conclusions about their relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an attempt to write something short and uber-fluffy to get me out of a plot-related writer's block on another fic. It ended up...not so short and only sort of fluffy. *shrug* But there's far less angst here than in my other fic, and the boys get to be adorable.

Finn waited until the small transport had deployed its loading ramp before striding across the tarmac. Already a ground crew was securing the craft and beginning its post-flight maintenance checks. Finn wasn’t interested in the ship, except to note that it was undamaged. He was here for the crew.  
  
“Five out of six,” Jessika Pava announced smugly, stepping down from the ramp and taking her first deep breath of non-recycled air in hours. “We are going to _drink_ tonight.”  
  
“All of us, or just those of us who completed a successful mission?” Finn asked, grinning.  
  
“Eh, boss’ll take pity on you and share his stash.” Jess turned to yell back through the hatch. “Right, boss?”  
  
“What’s mine is yours, Finn,” came the response, slightly muffled. Poe yanked a heavy sweater over his head on his way off the ship. “Especially because Snap’s due back from Dawnport tonight and I paid him to pick up some Huttslayer Grog.”  
  
“The General’s gonna have your ass for that.”  
  
“The General knows I don’t buy it for the name, and she gave up policing my taste in ale a long time ago.” Free of the sweater, Poe flashed a smile at Finn. “You here to handle the debrief?”  
  
“And to say welcome back.” Finn clapped him on the shoulder, falling into step between the pilots. A few months ago this entire situation would have been unimaginable. Not only the idea of a life—any life—outside the First Order, but a valuable role in the Resistance, and friends who actually cared what he thought and how he felt. Every so often he still had to concentrate and reassure himself that it was all real, that it wasn’t an elaborate training scenario.  
  
“Did you really get five?” he asked as they headed toward the Operations building.  
  
Poe gave a sharp, satisfied nod. “Better believe it. And it’s possible the sixth might still be in play, but there was a solar storm messing up the signals in the Liragia system, so we couldn’t pick up their response. Karé will have to swing by on her way back tomorrow and see if the comm relay is active.” His cheeks were flushed with the triumph, his eyes sparkling. It was a good look on him. Not that Finn had found many bad ones. Or planned to admit that he’d been tracking them. “ _Five_ more outposts ready to formally declare alliance with the Resistance. That’s manpower, and supplies, and _options_.” Finn felt himself get yanked into a brief, exuberant half-hug, Poe’s arm slung around his neck. “Now that is a good day.”  
  
“Two days.”  
  
“Close enough.”  
  
The debrief took longer than expected; even the most optimistic contingent of the intel team had expected to receive only three, maybe four positive responses to their coalition proposals. By the time the meeting broke up, Snap had landed with both the formally requisitioned supplies and the less formally requisitioned refreshments. Various officers began to trickle toward the recreation hall, the good news buoying spirits as it spread across the base.  
  
“So are you going to let me try this ale that’s supposedly worthy of a trip across the Mid Rim?” Finn asked once they’d stepped out of the briefing room.  
  
One side of Poe’s mouth turned up in a faint smile. “Tell you what—get Snap to give you my order, then keep one for yourself and give me the rest in the morning. I’m going to turn in.”  
  
Finn frowned. “I’m pretty sure there’s a decent party getting rolling right now. You’re not coming?”  
  
“Nah, I’m beat. Lot of jumping around these past couple of days. I’m not gonna be worth much until I get a solid night’s sleep.”  
  
“Okay.” That seemed out of character; it usually took more than a multi-stop recon run to keep Poe Dameron away from a gathering of his pilots. Finn wasn’t going to press, though. “Have a good night.”  
  
And if he watched a little more closely than usual as his friend walked away, well, that was his business.  
  


 

 

Poe cracked his eyes open and winced as the unrelenting sunlight seemed to drive his eyeballs deeper into his skull. Clearly a night’s rest hadn’t been the cure-all he’d hoped for. Kriff. It had been ages since he’d last been sick, and he’d been enjoying that streak.  
  
Wait. Sunlight. How late was it? He fumbled for his chrono and cursed. Good thing he wasn’t hungry for breakfast. Maybe he could get away with setting duty assignments from his quarters today. But if they were going to get approval for the Byrien operation in the next couple of days, he’d need to be prepared with some tactics for close air support, and—  
  
The knock startled him, and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from the ‘fresher door. “C’m—” He cleared the rasp from his throat and tried again. “Come on in.”  
  
Finn opened the door to their shared ‘fresher, looking hesitant. “Hey. You okay?”  
  
“Eh, I’m all right. Think I’m coming down with something, though.” Poe dragged himself upright, pulling a hand fruitlessly through what had to be an unholy mess of hair. “You might want to keep your distance, just in case it’s contagious.”  
  
“Not too worried. They exposed us to most of the common viruses on a planned schedule between years eight and ten. Immune strengthening program.” Before Poe could process this latest example of First Order logic, Finn had moved to Poe’s desk and set down the carton of ale and a plate of biscuits and ruping eggs. “I ducked my head in earlier, but you seemed pretty out of it. Thought you might miss breakfast.”  
  
It didn’t smell terribly good to him at the moment, but ruping eggs were normally one of his favorites. Poe looked up at his friend, touched by the thoughtfulness. “Thanks, buddy.”  
  
Finn shifted, uncomfortable with either the gratitude or the situation in general. “You’re not on duty today, are you?”  
  
“Just organizational stuff. Duty rosters for the next cycle and some pre-mission prep. I can afford to slack a little to make sure I’m ready when Byrien gets the go-ahead.”  
  
The furrows in Finn’s forehead didn’t go away. “Okay. I’ve got a strategy meeting. I’ll stop back by after that, bring you some lunch.”  
  
“You don’t have to babysit me,” Poe protested on instinct, ruthlessly squashing the warmth that was blossoming in his chest at the concept.  
  
“It’s not babysitting,” Finn said, ever reasonable. “It’s being a friend and a teammate.”  
  
There was no real way to counter that. “You’re a good one,” Poe said quietly. “If anybody’s looking for me, let ‘em know they can comm me, okay?”  
  
“I’ll take care of it. Get some rest.” Finn gave him a small smile as he headed toward the door. Poe attempted to return it, although the food was starting to turn his stomach. That wasn’t fair. He’d been the recipient of a really sweet gesture and couldn’t even enjoy it.  
  
He tried to wait it out, lying back down with his datapad open to the duty rotation spreadsheet in the hopes that things would improve. After only a few minutes, though, the scent was intolerable enough that he pushed to his feet and carried the plate over to dump it into the composter chute.  
  
…and then scrambled into the ‘fresher, falling to his knees just in time to lose whatever rations he’d eaten in transit yesterday. When his stomach was finally empty, Poe leaned his forehead against the cool duraplast wall and counted it a small favor that at least Finn had left before _that_ attractive display.  
  
He just had to get through those tactics and be able to brief them tomorrow for a launch in the next few days. That was it. Low bar. _Suck it up, Dameron._

 

 

“Finn, you seen the boss today?”  
  
Finn glanced up at Karé. “I think he’s doing paperwork. He lets it go until he has a crazy backlog.”  
  
“Don’t I know it. Eh, I’ll comm him.”  
  
“If you’re just turning in your recon report, I can take it to him.” Finn held out an offering hand, wondering at himself even as Karé took him up on it. Was he overstepping in his efforts to cover for Poe? It wasn’t as if being ill was a crime. Still, in his experience, showing weakness rarely went unnoticed. If he could prevent any of that kind of judgment from falling on Poe, it was worthwhile.  
  
By the time he reached the barracks wing, three more people had asked him to pass messages to Poe, one of whom was Admiral Statura. It made a certain amount of sense, he supposed; they shared a suite, after all. Still. Were they _that_ inseparable?  
  
He balanced a meal tray on top of his datapad and rapped on Poe’s door. “It’s open,” Poe called from inside.  
  
Finn entered to find the pilot at his desk, running simulated X-wing engagements on his computer terminal. “I thought you were done with the mission prep.”  
  
Poe grimaced. “So did I. Word from Byrien is that our advance guys have secured an alliance with the settlement in the mountains. Which is great, but it means I need to add air support for a northern front. They gave me Stiletto, but I’m still going to have to divert some of Red.”  
  
“Guess that must be why Statura asked me to give you this.” Finn set down the food, reached into his pocket, and handed over a datachip. “Think it’s the infantry plan.”  
  
“Thanks.” Poe scrubbed a weary hand over his face, looking apologetic. “And I really appreciate you bringing dinner, but…can you get rid of it? Kinda making things worse right now.”  
  
“Kriff. I’m sorry.” Finn immediately took the tray through the ‘fresher into his own room and shut the door behind it. Just in case Poe felt better later and wanted it. “Didn’t think of that.”  
  
“No way for you to know. My messed-up body can’t even decide if it’s too hot or too cold. Ugh. I have _work_ to do.”  
  
“Here.” Finn dug back into his pocket and came up with a capsule. “I stopped by the medbay an hour ago. Might not help your stomach, but your head, at least.”  
  
He’d told the medic on duty that it was for himself, not Poe, but that wasn’t really important.  
  
It took Poe a moment of staring, a little vacantly, at Finn before he blinked and reached out for the pill. “You are something else.”  
  
Finn suddenly felt out of his depth. “Was that not a good idea?”  
  
“No, it was a great idea. Just a lot more thoughtful than pretty much everyone I know. Not sure I deserve you.” Poe’s smile was tired, but sincere.  
  
Finn really liked earning those smiles. As was often the case, he wished he knew how much he was allowed to like it. “I don’t know how you guys feel about self-reporting your fitness for duty. When someone in a trooper squad had a minor illness or injury, we usually avoided reporting it unless we really had to. There were usually consequences for being unfit—extra duties later, or losing a good training slot because you were perceived as not strong enough. I don’t think that happens here, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to be safe.”  
  
“I don’t know why I’m ever surprised anymore by your tales from the First Order.” Poe shook his head and swallowed the pill dry. “You’re right that it’s not a big deal here, but you’re also right that I’m not that sick and don’t want to waste the medics’ time.” He tilted his head. “You looking out for me—that’s what you guys did for each other?”  
  
“Yeah. Some of us more than others, but your squad was your squad, you know?”  
  
“They couldn’t knock the humanity out of you all completely. No matter how hard they tried.” Poe’s smile had faded into something—melancholy, maybe. Before Finn could try to interpret it, the starfighter corps commander turned back to his terminal. “Thank you again. I’m hoping tomorrow will be better.” He peered at the contents of the datachip on the monitor and exhaled on a long sigh. “It’ll have to be, apparently, because this says we have a mission pre-brief in the morning. Byrien’s a go in eighteen hours.”  
  


 

 

Poe zipped up his flight suit and wondered if he could get away with wearing a jacket to the briefing. He was kriffing freezing and aware that it didn’t bode well for his day, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. The local ground support they had on Byrien wouldn’t wait around if the Resistance appeared to be hesitating. They had to move, and so he had to fly. He’d gotten the minimum amount of crew rest, but it hadn’t been the best sleep of his life.  
  
Finn would already be in the Ops room, providing the Pathfinders intel on likely trooper tactics, so Poe trudged out of the barracks, without a jacket. It wasn’t a long walk, just a couple of buildings away, yet he was winded by the time he reached his destination.  
  
The infantry portion of the brief was just wrapping up as he eased into the room and found himself a section of wall to lean against. General Organa turned, regarding him silently for a moment. Her expression barely changed, but he could read in her eyes that he wasn’t fooling her.  
  
“Commander,” she said with calm compassion, “are you fit to lead your squadrons today?”  
  
And he probably should have known the answer long before she drew it out of him, but he knew it for certain as soon as she opened her mouth. If he flew, he’d be a liability to the mission. “No, ma’am,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize. Captain Wexley, are you comfortable executing Black Leader’s strategy in his stead?”  
  
Snap cast a quick glance sideways at him before replying. “Yes, ma’am. I studied it last night. It’s a solid plan.”  
  
“Then let’s proceed.” The general stepped close and rested a hand on Poe’s shoulder, and he knew all his insecurities were right there for her to see. Maybe he had something in common with Finn’s squadmates, afraid to show weakness. So much for that.  
  
“You’ve taught them well,” she murmured to him. “Trust them. For a change, you can see a mission from my perspective.”  
  
Unsure what to say, he only nodded.  
  
“Find a seat before you fall over.” She swiveled back to the group. “Wexley will take Red and Stiletto up over the northern front. Captain Kun will lead Blue and Dagger in support of the Pathfinders. Call up the map.”  
  
Someone slid a chair toward Poe, and he took it readily, drawing his arms tighter around his body to ward off the chill. Snap was outlining the rules of engagement, and Poe ought to have been following them—it was his op-strat, and he needed to make sure they got the details. But all the voices in the room were starting to blur together.  
  
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder again. “Poe.” That was Finn. Hadn’t he just been across the room? “You still with us, man?”  
  
The briefing seemed to be over; most of the officers were gone. Poe thought hard about the effort it would take for him to stand up at that moment, and eventually he surrendered. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “I’m, uh, not feeling so great. You think you could walk with me over to medbay?”  
  
Finn had a beautiful face. It was beautiful even when it wasn’t purely kind, but right now it was purely kind. Stars, what was wrong with him that his only coherent thought right now was about Finn’s beautiful face?  
  
“Whatever you need, Poe. I’ve got you.”

 

 

Finn’s concern spiked as soon as he saw how unsteady Poe was on his feet. He slid an arm around his friend’s waist, feeling a faint tremor running through his frame. The medbay was in the adjoining building, and Finn honestly wasn’t sure Poe would make it that far. “Maybe I should call the medics to come pick us up.”  
  
“…’m okay.” But his feet were dragging more with each step down the interminable hallway.  
  
A whistle sounded near their feet. Finn had never been so grateful for an astromech’s loyalty before. Well, maybe once before. “Bee, send a message to Too-Onebee. Get her to send a repulsor chair or something to at least meet us halfway.”  
  
“F’nn?”  
  
“Yeah, Poe?” Finn adjusted his grip to take more of Poe’s weight. BB-8 whirred, transmitting the message.  
  
It was as if Poe hadn’t heard. “Fff…n…”  
  
And then whatever willpower had been propelling him ran out, and his legs folded underneath him.  
  
Finn lunged to catch his friend against his chest, guiding Poe’s head to rest on his shoulder. “Poe? Come on, Poe, you there?” No response, no movement. The heat blazing off Poe’s forehead was bleeding through Finn’s shirt, and he swore under his breath. This was so much worse than he’d thought.  
  
BB-8 screeched in alarm. Making a decision, Finn bent his knees and hoisted Poe’s limp form into his arms. He likely wouldn’t get far, but if it got Poe to the medics even a few seconds faster, then it would be worth it. Dark curls smeared damply against his neck. Which one of them was sweating? Both, probably.  
  
Before long, a gurney skidded around the corner, propelled by Too-Onebee. Finn laid Poe down as gently as he could manage, catching his breath. The pilot gave no sign of consciousness as they moved swiftly toward the medbay.  
  
“Talk to me,” Doctor Kalonia ordered the moment they arrived, reaching for a scanner. “Vitals?”  
  
“Elevated temp, inconsistent pulse, low blood pressure,” the droid rattled off. “Minimal reactivity.”  
  
Kalonia raised her eyebrows at Finn, running her scan with one practiced hand. “Did this just come on today?”  
  
“It started yesterday. Maybe even the night before.” And now Finn was angry at himself. This wasn’t the Order. He should have insisted Poe get treatment sooner. “I thought he was getting better, but there was so much to get done yesterday…”  
  
“Don’t you take that on your shoulders. I’m quite confident Mr. Dameron can neglect his health all by himself.” The doctor addressed Too-Onebee and an approaching nurse. “Dehydration’s not helping matters. Run a unit of saline at ninety-five degrees. That should help with the fever as well.”  
  
“Will he be okay?” Finn hovered near the wall, wanting to stay out of their way but needing to be nearby.  
  
“No signs of infection thus far. We’ll run some tests. Don’t get worried until there’s something to be worried about.” Nonetheless, her posture looked tense as she bustled around her patient.  
  
The nurse had started the IV line, and Poe moaned weakly, trying to curl around the arm with the needle. “Settle, Poe,” Kalonia soothed. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but we need to get you cooled down.”  
  
Poe mumbled something that might not have been in Basic, but he stilled, eyes moving behind closed lids.  
  
“Family history,” Too-Onebee said, without context.  
  
“I’m aware.” Kalonia said tightly, turning away to slip a blood sample into a slot in the console against the opposite wall.  
  
Finn didn’t like how that sounded. “What does that mean?”  
  
“We keep records on each of our patients,” the doctor explained, leaving the console to do its work. “In those records are any details that we feel may help us treat a patient more effectively. Are you familiar with heredity?”  
  
Her tone wasn’t patronizing, so he answered her honestly, without defensiveness. “Traits that are passed from a being to its offspring.”  
  
Kalonia smiled a little. “I only asked because I wasn’t sure of the subjects covered in your training, since it’s not something you would have direct experience with. Yes. There are diseases that can be passed between parent and child, as well as genetic markers that might put someone at higher risk for a particular condition because a parent had it. Too-Onebee was reminding me of Commander Dameron’s family history. I’m running the relevant blood screen right now.”  
  
The chill Finn felt surely had nothing to do with the actual room temperature, nor was he concerned that he might have acquired Poe’s illness. The medics seemed to have completed their tasks for the time being, so he reached over and closed his fingers around Poe’s warm hand.  
  
The console chimed, signaling its completion. Kalonia bent over the screen, and after a moment her shoulders slumped. “Negative. Thank the Force.”  
  
Finn closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to share in her relief. “Negative for what?”  
  
“Bloodburn. It’s a disease that weakens the body’s ability to regulate its own temperature, among other things. It’s exacerbated by stellar radiation, so it disproportionately affects those who travel frequently in space. Starfighter pilots even more so, due to their crafts’ thinner shields.”  
  
“And it’s hereditary?”  
  
“There’s a hereditary component, at least. The pathology is complex. But when it manifests, it’s chronic, and barely manageable under the best of circumstances.” A hint of Kalonia’s gentle smile returned. “But that’s not a battle he needs to fight—certainly not today. Today it’s nothing more than a common yet nasty virus, made worse by the fact that he’s been working entirely too hard and jumping from one planet to the next, which can be hell on the immune system. Two or three days from now he’ll be back to himself with no lasting damage.”  
  
Feeling the tension begin to drain from his muscles, Finn pulled in an unsteady breath. “Okay. What happens now?”  
  
“Now we cool him down and let him rest. Overnight observation ought to be long enough. If he’s uncomfortable when he wakes up, there are medications to help with the aches. We’ll get him set up in a room.”  
  
At Finn’s feet, BB-8 gave an interrogative chirp. Finn started, having forgotten the droid was there. “Who’s asking after him?” he wanted to know. The beeps he got in response were a series he’d learned early in their acquaintance. “The General?”  
  
“I’ll send her a status update,” Kalonia promised. “She knows his history as well, and worrying is a duty no mother can shake.”  
  
BB-8 chattered again, and Finn hesitated, looking down at his friend, motionless but not relaxed. “The strike force is about to take off for Byrien. They’re asking for me to report to Ops.”  
  
“He’s going to sleep the rest of the day away, whether you’re here or not.” Kalonia laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Beebee can interface with Toowie whenever you want to check in on him by remote.”  
  
It still didn’t seem right to leave just then. “How much is Too-Onebee allowed to tell me? I’m not…I’m just his roommate.”  
  
“You’re here,” the doctor reminded him. “And he authorized you. Months ago. Go ahead and go. He’ll keep.”

  


 

 

It was fortunate for everyone that the Byrien mission went almost precisely as planned, deviating from the simulations only in the number and enthusiasm of the local forces. Clearly this was the opportunity they had been waiting some time for, and they hadn’t wasted a moment of it. BB-8 queried the medical system hourly and reported his master’s condition as it stabilized, allowing Finn to focus on the fight. Mostly. He had relatively few inputs to give: on the establishment of a perimeter, the deployment of the mop-up forces—and the coordination of prisoner disposition. He’d be called on in a few days’ time to meet with them; it was one of his most critical roles in the Resistance.  
  
For now, though, he told himself that it was all right for his thoughts to sometimes wander back to the pilot who _wasn’t_ leading his squadrons back to base as usual.  
  
It was evening by the time he and BB-8 returned to medbay, worn out mentally and physically. A nurse pointed him toward a room off to the side, and he gratefully slid into the bedside chair it held, taking a moment to study his friend.  
  
In the dim light, Poe looked washed out, his skin mostly pale with a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead and a flush of color high on his cheekbones. They’d dressed him in thin clothing that looked over-large, making him seem even smaller. He lay sprawled on his side, as if he’d tried to curl up but had given up halfway through.  
  
“Your presence will be beneficial,” reported Too-Onebee, performing a vitals check. “Earlier he was agitated and repeatedly asked for you.”  
  
Remorse flared in Finn’s chest. He glanced down at Beebee, who gave the Binary equivalent of a guilty shrug. “My mission responsibilities are done. I can stay now.” He reached out to push lifeless curls away from Poe’s forehead.  
  
Poe stirred in response, as the droid left the room. “F’n,” he murmured, eyes closed.  
  
“Right here,” Finn assured him. “Go ahead and sleep.”  
  
Poe didn’t seem to hear, shifting restlessly. “Please.”  
  
Delirious, maybe, Finn wondered. Clearly the fever still had a hold of him. After a moment, though, his eyes flickered once, then twice. “Byrien?”  
  
“Success,” Finn told him, leaning in close. “We have the main settlement, so we have the planet.”  
  
“How…” Poe was obviously struggling, and Finn was surprised to see the glistening of tears when his eyes opened again. “How many?”  
  
“How many what?” And then Finn got it. “Oh, Poe,” he said gently. “None. They’re all coming home right now. We didn’t lose a single pilot. I swear to you.”  
  
At that, Poe seemed to relax ever so slightly, eyes sliding closed again. Finn folded his arms and rested them on the side of the bed. He had a new mission for the night, and he intended to see it through.

 

 

Awareness filtered back to Poe in fits and starts. He was cold; that much was clear right away. Everything ached, but if he stayed perfectly still, it was tolerable, which was fine since he was as tired as he’d ever been in his life. Opening his eyes was a task he could leave for another time.  
  
Soft sounds gradually made themselves known: machines, droids, the occasional footfall. Medbay. Kriff, he must have done something stupid.  
  
He drifted for a while, content in not knowing, until a hand settled on his shoulder. “Good morning, Commander,” said a kind voice. “Are you back with us for good now?”  
  
The doc. Against his better judgment, Poe peeled his eyes open and was assaulted by the harsh artificial light, low though it was. “Mmm,” he said, hoping it sounded affirmative. “Was I…not?”  
  
“With us? It’s been difficult to tell.” An olive-drab blur came into his field of view. “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
  
Good question. “The m—” His voice faltered, and he coughed, sparking pain in his chest. Hands guided him upright just far enough to take a blissful sip of water, then eased him back. “Mission brief. Byrien.”  
  
“The mission went very well, I’m told. You, on the other hand, collapsed and panicked poor Finn rather badly.”  
  
Poe couldn’t decide whether to be more embarrassed or worried. He didn’t make a lot of progress toward either. “Finn—?”  
  
“As soon as I came on shift this morning I sent him off for a couple hours of real sleep.” Kalonia was coming into focus now. “He was your sentry all night. Toowie says he had to reassure you four different times about all your pilots making it back from Byrien, and twice that you were safe on base and not…elsewhere.”  
  
While Poe had no memory of that, he could well imagine where his fever dreams had taken him.  
  
What had happened to him? How had he gotten this sick?  
  
A possible explanation crept into his mind, and unease wound its way through his veins. “Doc,” he said quietly, “you…checked, right?”  
  
At that, she bent down to look him directly in the eye. “I did,” she replied solemnly. “Tests were negative. You picked up a Myelinian heat virus on your recon mission. Nothing more than that.” She busied herself with his IV line, giving him a moment to process his overwhelming gratitude for that news. “Your temperature is starting to come down from its peak, and your latest bloodwork is looking better. Once you eat a little and feel strong enough to function without the droids around, you can sleep off the rest of this nasty bug in your own bed. Assuming your guardian is willing to stay on the job for another night.”  
  
It took Poe a moment to realize that she was looking up toward the door as she spoke. Shifting his head slightly on the pillow, he strained to focus on the doorway.  
  
“You’re awake!” Finn rolled up the stack of flimsis in his hand and jammed them into his pocket as he crossed the room. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Like hell. But…better than before. I think.” Poe attempted a smile. “Sorry if I freaked you out.”  
  
“I’m just glad it’s not serious. This was…a little beyond anything I ever saw in my squad.” Finn still looked a little lost, but he gamely stepped up next to the bed.  
  
“Finn, why don’t you help him get a little more upright,” Kalonia suggested. “I’ll scare up a ration drink, and if you can keep it down, Poe, you’ll have one foot out the door.”  
  
Poe Dameron was a grown man and a starfighter corps commander. There was no excuse whatsoever for him to enjoy the nearness of his best friend so damn much. Nonetheless, when Finn slipped an arm around his shoulders and adjusted the head of the bed, he felt a sense of warmth that hadn’t…  
  
…and, okay, now his vision was swimming.  
  
“Whoa, hey.” Finn braced him when he listed to the side. “Guess we’ll take things like motion a little slower.”  
  
“Sorry. ‘m okay, just tired. Wanna go back to my room and conk out.”  
  
“One thing at a time.” Finn took a seat next to him on the bed. A droid appeared with the promised drink, and Finn held it up for Poe to drink a few tentative sips. His stomach didn’t revolt, so he counted it as a win.  
  
“Kalonia told me she tested for bloodburn,” Finn said quietly, a thread of anxiety winding through his words. “She said you don’t have it.”  
  
“Yeah, I asked her too.” The doctor wouldn’t have explained why, though, and Finn deserved better than mysterious half-truths. “It’s because my mom got it when I was seven. She fought it for over a year, but, you know. That’s one that usually wins sooner or later.”  
  
Even with his mind in a fog, Poe knew that it would be self-absorbed to linger too long on what he’d lost when Shara Bey died. He’d grown up loved; he was so much luckier than Finn had been.  
  
“I hate that something like that can just show up at any time.” Finn sounded troubled. “Just because there’s nothing there now doesn’t mean you can stop looking over your shoulder.”  
  
“I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about it. I’ll have to survive the war first before it can really become a factor in anything.” That clearly didn’t do much for Finn’s state of mind. Poe ducked his head and reached for the drink. Finn passed it over but didn’t let go, steadying the tremor in Poe’s grip. “It’s a pretty rare disease. Yeah, I’m at a higher risk than most people, but that doesn’t mean it’s likely I’ll get it. Don’t worry about me, okay? Please.”  
  
“I’ll try not to. Not sure I can turn it off.” Finn kept looking straight ahead, at the wall. “I’m learning that a big part of caring about other people is worrying about them. And making choices that minimize that worry.”  
  
“Like staying with me last night, even though I barely knew my own name.” Poe leaned his shoulder into Finn’s. “Thank you for that.”  
  
“And taking you home, as soon as you’re ready.” Finn lifted the drink one more time, allowing Poe to drain it.  
  
“I will always be ready to leave medbay.” He raised his voice as best he could. “No offense, Doctor K.”  
  
“None taken,” came the response from beyond the doorway. “Back here for a checkup this time tomorrow, understood?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
It was a little embarrassing to be relegated to a repulsor chair for the trip to the barracks, but it was better than most of the alternatives that came to mind. Poe wanted as little attention as possible from his squadrons, so he stood up cautiously at the barracks entrance and directed the chair back toward medbay. Finn’s hand hovered at his back, a soothing presence as they made their way down the corridor.  
  
He’d overestimated his stamina, though, a fact that became more evident with each step. His quarters were only a few doors away, but his vision was starting to go gray around the edges. “Can we take…quick break?” he asked, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself.  
  
Finn reacted swiftly, stepping in front of him and locking an arm around his waist. “Put your head down for a moment. Lean on me.”  
  
Poe did, focusing on nothing but his own breathing and Finn, so close and so kind. He needed to get his act together, but he felt lousy and he’d been working like crazy for a really long time and he’d earned some comfort, damn it.  
  
“Okay,” he said, at last feeling confident enough to move. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry.” Finn straightened up but kept his supporting arm in place. Together they made it to his door, where he was able to input his code and weave his way over to the unmade bed, falling into it in what had to be the most graceless manner possible.  
  
“That might not have been smart,” he mumbled, curling up and reveling in the comparative luxury. He still ached, and was cold, but it was infinitely more tolerable in his own bunk. “Worth it, though.”  
  
He felt rather than saw Finn reach down to pull his shoes off. Apparently he’d closed his eyes. “Thanks,” he said, although the pillow swallowed most of the word. “Um, you can—do whatever.”  
  
“I’ll ‘do whatever’ from your desk.” Finn sounded amused, and fond. “Just take a nap.”  
  
“Mmm,” Poe agreed, aware only that a blanket had been drawn up over him before he was gone again.

 

 

Finn set aside his datapad when he heard Poe stir. ‘Hey,” he said, rising from the desk chair. “How’re you feeling?”  
  
Poe took a moment to consider the question. “Not bad,” he said finally. “Compared to earlier, anyway. Is it…night?”  
  
“Just after lunch.” Finn hovered next to the bunk for lack of a better idea. “I had someone bring some soup and bread for whenever you want it. Kept it in my room just in case the smell might be a problem.”  
  
“Thanks—think I might be hungry, actually. Maybe?” Poe scrubbed a hand over his face and hair, sending dark locks off in all directions. “Force, it feels like I’ve been out for an age.”  
  
Finn bit back a smile at his friend’s disorientation, willing to find some fun in the situation now that he knew all would soon be well. “Most of the base is on downtime today, after the mission. You haven’t missed much.”  
  
Pushing himself into a sitting position, Poe blinked and looked up at him. “I feel grungy as hell. Shower first, then food.”  
  
“Can you stand up long enough to shower?”  
  
“Gonna find out.” Poe reached a hand up, and Finn grasped it, pulling him carefully to his feet. The pilot swayed for only an instant before righting himself.  
  
Their faces were inches apart, Poe’s gaze a little glassy but warm, and Finn had to steel himself against a flush of—what? Affection? Yes, but no. Closeness to others had been a foreign concept for so much of his life that he tended to avoid it with most people. With Poe, it was different: desirable, and unnerving, because there was still so much he didn’t know about…well, everything.  
  
Poe looked away. “Sorry—I must smell like a foot locker. I’m okay. Thanks.”  
  
When Finn released him, he moved gingerly toward the dresser and tugged fresh clothes out of the drawer. “If I’m not out in ten minutes or you hear a thud, go ahead and come in—my dignity will survive.”  
  
Finn wasn’t convinced _his_ would, but he nodded as Poe closed the fresher door. Before long, the water began to run. Half listening for the aforementioned thud, he found himself gazing once again at a holo on the bookshelf above the desk. He well knew what it was by now, but still it drew his eye: a mother, a father, a young, bright-eyed boy. A kind of childhood he could barely imagine. And yet it couldn’t all have been so idyllic; hadn’t he just learned how young Poe had been when his mother had died? Was this image one of the last they’d taken before the happiness had begun to flicker and fade?  
  
A corner of Finn’s soul ached to know his own parents—but his sense of loss was vague, unformed. Poe had known his mother and knew what had been taken from him. Did he feel that loss acutely, like a phantom limb?  
  
The water shut off, and Finn waited for a signal as to whether he was needed. He could hear shuffling sounds from the fresher for a while, and then a pause, and then a soft curse.  
  
“Hey, Finn?”  
  
He moved immediately to the door. “Yeah?”  
  
Poe’s voice had none of its usual self-assurance. “Give me a hand?”  
  
When Finn opened the door, Poe was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, half-dressed and shivering. His shirt had slipped from his fingers and fallen into a puddle of water on the floor, and he looked as though coming up with an alternate plan was beyond his current capabilities.  
  
Finn pulled his own, dry towel off the rack and drew it around Poe’s shoulders. “You’re okay, buddy. C’mon.” He maneuvered Poe up to standing and guided him back to sit on his bunk. Then he opened a drawer, chose a comfortable-looking shirt at random, and tugged it over Poe’s head. “Better?”  
  
Poe nodded, working his arms into the shirt. For half a second Finn regretted losing the view, then gave himself a mental shake.  
  
“Kinda ran out of energy there. Again.”  
  
“It’s no problem. You ready for food?” At Poe’s nod, he ducked through the open fresher doors, reminding himself to mop up in there later, and retrieved the meal tray from his desk. Poe’s hands seemed tolerably steady when he pressed the soup mug into them.  
  
“Okay,” Poe said after a couple of sips. “I might actually be human again. Sorry about that.”  
  
Maybe it was the minor sleep deficit that kept Finn from filtering his response. “You’ve said ‘sorry’ about six times since you woke up in medbay. Why do you keep doing that?”  
  
Poe blinked at him, clearly caught without an answer. Finn charged ahead. “It’s like you think you did something wrong by getting sick, which doesn’t make any sense. Either that or—or I haven’t been doing the right things to help, and if that’s true I really need to know.”  
  
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Poe hurried to say. “You’re really not. You’re—Force, you’re doing things right even before I realize I need them. You’ve been incredible…more than I deserve.”  
  
“You just did it _again_.”  
  
“More than I’m used to, then. Kriff.” He dragged a hand through still-damp hair and exhaled a long breath. “Okay, let me start over and try to explain my hangups. Just bear with me, because I don’t know if I’ve actually put this into words before.”  
  
He waved toward the desk chair, and Finn took a seat.  
  
“I hate medbays,” Poe began. “It’s nothing against Doctor K or anyone else, but being there makes me want to scrape off my own skin. I told you how my mom died, right? I said that out loud this morning?”  
  
“Yeah, you did.” Already Finn was beginning to understand. “You said it took over a year.”  
  
“All three of us spent a lot of that year in med centers. Local ones, Core Worlds specialists, you name it. They have differences but they all feel the same—full of uncertainty and fear and fatalism. It’s a lot for a kid to take in, and I guess it kinda stuck with me. So that’s part of it—me just wanting to get the hell out of any place that reminds me of that.”  
  
“But you stayed with me,” Finn said without forethought. “After Starkiller, you must have spent days in the medbay with me.”  
  
Poe’s expression suggested he’d been caught at a loss again. “That was different,” he said after a moment. “You were getting better—no one was dying. And—I mean, you were _you_.” When Finn waited for him to clarify that, he glanced away, a self-conscious hand on the back of his neck. “You were in a completely new environment and just trying to put one foot in front of the other. You think I could have just left you there?”  
  
In fact Finn had thought exactly that, at the time; his life’s experiences had given him little reason to consider other possibilities. He’d since learned much more about the values of the Resistance in general and Poe Dameron in particular. “You said that’s part of it,” he recalled, shifting the topic. “What’s the other part?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh. The other part is related, but…” Poe took another drink from his mug of soup and leaned back against the wall behind his bunk. “Once it was obvious that the doctors weren’t going to be able to do anything more for my mom, we brought her home for the last few weeks. My dad was basically her full-time nurse, with some help from me. He did everything with her and for her—left his job for a long time to be with her. And he was really good at it, and he never seemed to get beaten down by it. But…the first time I got sick after she died, just a stupid cold or something, he was looking after me and I—kind of saw him start to slip back into that mindset, and it…scared me, I guess. I hated remembering what it was like, and watching him remember it. So I just decided to not get sick or hurt anymore, at least not where he could see me. Any time I did, I tried to take care of myself as much as I could without getting him involved.”  
  
And now a number of things made sense. Finn nodded, recalling the twisted ankles and headaches he’d concealed as a cadet. Their reasons had been so wildly different but the end result was the same. “Your father must have realized what you were doing, sooner or later.”  
  
“Oh, yeah—he’s pretty damn observant. He never let me go too far with it. I don’t know, I think maybe he appreciated that I was doing it for him, even if it wasn’t that great an idea. But anyway, it turned into a habit, and so even now I’m weird about letting people take care of me. Even my friends.”  
  
Finn could only think of one response. “Thank you for letting me.”  
  
Looking surprised again, but no longer uncertain, Poe gave him a small smile. “Yeah, well, like I said. You’re different.”  
  
As he finished his soup, swirling the bread around the bottom of the mug, Finn weighed whether or not to press further. These weren’t comfortable topics for most people, he knew. It was so incredibly helpful to hear and understand these things, though, these insights into lives so different from his own. And Poe had never once hesitated to answer. “Is it hard to remember your mom?” Finn asked, tentative. “I mean, you’ve told me about her, and it doesn’t always seem to make you sad, exactly—but when you think about her, how much of it is good and how much isn’t?”  
  
Poe swallowed his bite of bread. “It depends. Sometimes if I’m already feeling down about something else, it makes me feel that much lonelier. There have been some really bad days where I got into a kind of feedback loop and just kept picturing her saying goodbye over and over in my head. That hasn’t happened in a long time, though. Mostly it’s good. I had a great mom, you know?” He smiled. “And a great dad. Someday you’ll meet him and understand at least a little about why I am the way I am.”  
  
Still stuck on the idea that someone as universally well-liked as Poe could ever feel lonely, Finn needed a moment to process that last statement. “Meet your dad?”  
  
“Sure. I don’t know when things will calm down enough for us to take any kind of leave, but—I mean, I’ve told him about you, and he really wants to thank you personally for saving my ass. And all those places on Yavin Four that I keep telling you about, remember? You have to see them for yourself.”  
  
Thinking about the future in that way, like something that he could shape, was still strange. It all sounded amazing, and the fact that Poe wanted to share some of his life with Finn seemed like a wondrous gift. “Your dad knows about me?”  
  
“Yeah, of course. I write to him, and I can’t tell him much about ops, so I tell him about people. You’ve been a big part of the stories for kind of a while now.” Even after finishing his food, Poe was still looking intently into his mug, the faintest of smiles creasing the corners of his eyes. “He’s been on my case to show you the colony, so you’ll be better informed when this war finally ends and you’re looking for a place to settle down. I keep telling him how far ahead of himself he’s getting, but I’m never going to be able to convince him of much.”  
  
“He’s never even met me,” Finn said, uncomprehending.  
  
“True, but while he may not approve of absolutely everything his kid gets up to, he does at least consider me a good judge of character.” Poe set his mug down on the bedside table and leaned back against the wall. “Have you thought much about that?”  
  
“About people inviting me to see their home planets?”  
  
“About what you want when all this is over.” Poe’s smile turned wistful. “Sometimes it’s nice to imagine, even if we can’t exactly plan it all out. Something to focus on and fight for.”  
  
In the months since he’d gained his freedom, the farthest into the future that Finn had been able to glimpse had been maybe six weeks, as they’d planned the evacuation of D’Qar and the move to the new base. Thinking about the end of the war was utterly unimaginable. Not knowing where to start, he did what he’d so often done before: look to Poe for guidance. “Would you go back there? To Yavin Four?”  
  
“Probably. It’s a good home. I still know a lot of people in the colony.”  
  
“Why probably, then?”  
  
Poe shrugged. “I mean, there might be other considerations. A job. Friends, family.”  
  
“Your dad’s on Yavin Four, though—?”  
  
“No, I meant…if _I_ started a family.” Finn couldn’t tell if the flush that seemed to be creeping up Poe’s neck was a lingering symptom of the fever or a sign of embarrassment. “Not like I’m expecting that in the middle of all this, but…I don’t know, it’s not impossible. It happened to my parents, after all.”  
  
Finn’s entire knowledge of family life had been assembled from occasional snippets of First Order propaganda, news feeds, and the entertainment holovids some of the Resistance fighters favored. Inasmuch as he ever imagined being a part of a family, he’d never once pictured himself in the role of parent; he’d only daydreamed about what his childhood might have been. “I wouldn’t have the first idea of how to take care of a youngling.”  
  
“To be honest, me neither. But my dad managed it almost on his own, and I didn’t turn out completely awful, so I guess it must be doable.”  
  
Imagining Poe as a parent—that was easier. He was fiercely devoted to his squadron pilots, was responsible and compassionate and seemingly indefatigable. And a child with his eyes, his curls, his smile… Finn blinked hard to clear his mind. “You’d be good at it,” he said simply.  
  
At that, his friend looked almost shy. “So would you, I think,” he replied. “If you wanted to. Obviously you’ve got the caretaker part down already.” Poe glanced away, drawing his blanket up over his bent knees. “Since we’re on the subject, I might as well ask, because I’ve thought about it now and again: You had parents, once. It’s possible they’re alive somewhere.”  
  
“It is.” Unlikely, to Finn’s way of thinking, but possible. “Are you asking whether I’d want to go looking for them, if I could?”  
  
“Yes. We’re gaining more intel on the First Order by the day. We might—someday, we might round up enough of the right documentation to come up with a place to start looking. If it’s what you wanted.”  
  
It had been in the back of his mind for months. Maybe since before he’d escaped, if he was honest with himself. But the idea that it had preoccupied Poe as well touched him. “I think I would. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere, I’d want to try.”  
  
“Then we will. After the war. It’s a promise. Like I said, something to fight for.” Poe held out his hand, his expression deadly earnest. As Finn leaned forward to shake it, all he could think was: _I fight for lots of things, but one of them is you._  
  
“I’ll still probably need a—a home,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe Yavin would be good.”  
  
Poe’s gaze was soft and maybe hopeful, belying the teasing tone of his words. “I gotta warn you, it gets pretty hot.”  
  
Finn raised his eyebrows. “Hot compared to here, or hot compared to Jakku?”  
  
“Nothing compares to Jakku.” Poe shook his head wistfully. “Heat on Yavin Four is wet. Sometimes the air feels like it’s weighing you down. But it makes for greens and blues like you’ve never seen. I think I actually have a holofilm—like a travel documentary or something. Beebee, wake up.”  
  
From the corner, BB-8 stirred from its power-saving mode and rolled over to the bunk, chirping inquisitively. “Do you have that travel holo about the colony?” The response was clear even to Finn as an affirmative. Poe patted the mattress next to him. “Come sit over here. Bee’s projector works best against the far wall.”  
  
Finn did as he was instructed, leaning against the long edge of the bunk’s frame as Poe had done and stretching his legs out to dangle off the mattress. The droid dutifully aimed its projector at the opposite wall and dimmed the room lights, and a canopy of vivid trees soon covered the wall. The camera must have been mounted on a mid-altitude speeder, because it swooped low over the forests and panned wide to capture soaring towers in the distance.  
  
“The Massassi temples,” Poe explained, his voice only inches from Finn’s ear. “Really old. I’m too wiped out to tell the history properly tonight, though.”  
  
They watched for some time before Finn became aware that Poe’s energy was indeed flagging. He began to slump into Finn’s side, which was pleasant, if probably not tenable long-term. “Lay down,” Finn told him quietly, picking up the pillow and placing it next to his thigh. “There’s still room.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m short, I know.” Poe nevertheless swung his legs up onto the bed and wriggled down to lay his head on the pillow. Finn kept watching the holo, entranced by the flock of what the narrator called ‘whisper-birds,’ until he felt Poe’s arm settle across his knees.  
  
If Poe felt his slight startle, he gave no sign, humming quietly along with the music that accompanied the film. “Old colonial folk song,” he murmured, half into the pillow. “S’got words. Teach you later.”  
  
Charmed, Finn had to smile. “I need to know the words? Is there a citizenship test or something?”  
  
“S’a Dameron test, anyway.” Poe seemed to have burrowed deeper into the bunk, and into his unusual but endearing embrace of Finn’s legs. “We could do it, y’know,” he said softly. “When there’s peace. We could…be happy.”  
  
Finn couldn’t be sure what his friend was offering, and he sensed that asking wasn’t going to get him a clear answer, at least not tonight. Whatever it was, though, he wanted it, as fiercely as he’d ever wanted anything. As much as he’d wanted his freedom.  
  
After Poe’s breathing had evened out into sleep, Finn finished watching the holo, his visions of the future now anchored on the bustling port marketplace and tempestuous rainstorms and warm brown eyes. When the image faded to black, BB-8 swiveled its head in his direction and gave an interrogative whistle.  
  
“Oh. He’d probably rest better on his own, huh?” Finn eyed the pilot half-draped across his lap, gauging how to extricate himself as gently as possible.  
  
BB-8 answered with an emphatic denial and scooted over to Poe’s closet, where it extended a pincer arm to retrieve another pillow. Rolling up to Finn, it instructed him in slow, simple Binary to get comfortable.  
  
“Okay. For a little while.” Not really inclined to protest, Finn jammed the pillow behind him and settled back. “Um, you can go back into power-save, if you want.”  
  
Satisfied, the droid went back to its charging station. Without conscious thought, Finn rested his hand next to Poe’s head, running his fingers through unruly dark locks. It was soothing, this closeness, and since he couldn’t be sure whether he’d get to experience it again any time soon once Poe was recovered, he decided to enjoy it while he had the opportunity.  
  
Closing his eyes, Finn let himself imagine a home at the edge of a rainforest, and a lasting peace that stretched far beyond the horizon.

 

 

It must have been night when Poe half-woke; he couldn’t really work up the motivation to search for his chrono, but his room’s small window was dark, and Beebee was charging in the corner. After a few seconds of drifting, trying to recall when he’d fallen asleep, he became aware of a hand resting near his head, fingers twined in his hair. A bit bemused—it had been a really long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone—he gradually put the pieces together and identified Finn, sitting upright on his bunk and snoring softly. Which was adorable, but likely a result of being slouched in a less than ideal position.  
  
“Finn,” he whispered, turning onto his back to look up at his friend in the dim light. Finn roused immediately and silently, blinking down at him. “Lie down,” he suggested. “Gonna hurt your neck.”  
  
He hadn’t really thought his statement all the way through; the bunk was decently wide, but not built for two people. Nonetheless, he drew back from where his head and pillow seemed to be smashed into Finn’s thigh and shifted toward the wall, leaving as much space as possible and holding up the blanket. “C’mon. Legs up.”  
  
Either Finn was agreeable to the plan or not awake enough to object, because he shuffled around and lay down on his back next to Poe, dragging his own pillow along. After a moment’s hesitation, Poe settled the blanket over them both and let his cheek rest against Finn’s shoulder. _This is probably a bad idea,_ some part of his brain warned. He’d never felt comfort like this, though, not as far back as he could remember. He’d been damn near selfless about so much for so long, and he was going to take this one night and figure the rest out in the morning.

  


 

 

Finn startled awake, instantly clear about not being in his own bunk. Memory came back rapidly, and the warmth that flared in his chest as a result was quickly overtaken by uncertainty. Poe had asked him to stay—right? They’d talked about so many things, but they hadn’t exactly talked about this.  
  
_He was exhausted, and still sick,_ Finn reminded himself. _It would be a mistake to assume that he’d meant all of it the way you wanted him to._ Poe himself had explained how difficult it was for him to show weakness—would he be embarrassed to wake now and find himself here?  
  
Better not to risk it. Finn disentangled himself and rolled carefully out of the bunk, tucking the blanket around Poe alone. It wasn’t yet dawn; he could get in a quick jog and some breakfast before he had to begin facing the day.  
  
And if it felt wrong to slip back into his own room without a word, well, no one else had to know.

 

 

Poe squinted at his droid as it burbled cheerfully at him from beside the bunk. “Morning, Bee,” he rasped, clearing his throat while he considered the question. “Um, pretty good, actually. Not gonna go pull any Gs today or anything, but I don’t feel like I’m on fire anymore.”  
  
He dragged himself to a sitting position and blinked a few times, trying to recall. “Was—when did Finn leave?”  
  
The time he got in response seemed unbearably early. Poe tried to avoid thinking too hard about what, if anything, that meant. He was pretty clear on the fact that he’d sacked out practically on top of Finn last night, and while Finn had seemed comfortable with it, he was well aware that the former trooper sometimes had one hell of a poker face.  
  
Which was more than Poe could say for himself, considering the generalities of last night’s conversation.  
  
They’d talked about relationships obliquely in the past, mostly under the guise of explaining each other’s cultural norms. He’d always made an effort to stay neutral in such discussions. If Finn wanted to date someone, or—whatever—he should be able to do it without having to worry about Poe’s feelings. And Poe would be damned if he’d let Finn agree to anything out of…gratitude, or misunderstood obligation, or…  
  
…or just wanting his sick, worn-out friend to feel better.  
  
But apparently the Myelinian flu had shredded his best intentions along with everything else, because he’d just asked Finn to move to Yavin with him and then curled up on him like a loth-cat. Fantastic.  
  
Beebee chirped and bobbed its head toward the other side of the room. Poe followed the direction of its optical sensor and noticed the plate of zingbee honey-cake sitting on the corner of the desk. With a smile, he carefully pushed himself up and crossed the room to retrieve it.  
  
The flimsi beside the plate read: _Poe – I’m prepping for a trip to the prisoner integration site to debrief the troopers from the Byrien op. Comm me if you need help to get to your med check this morning, though. Hope you slept well. –Finn  
  
_ Then, possibly as an afterthought: _Your home planet is beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me._  
  
Honey-cakes were, of course, his favorite breakfast food. Really, he didn’t deserve this kid. ( _Man._ Not ‘kid’. Finn was only a ‘kid’ when Poe was feeling sorry for himself. Which, okay, might have fit the moment.) No one deserved this man. But this man deserved every good thing in the universe. What’s more, he deserved to _experience_ the universe. Poe was not going to stand in the way of that.  
  
Once he’d eaten and showered, there wasn’t much reason to put off his visit to the medbay. He felt perfectly steady, if still a little drained, so he set off at a sedate pace and greeted a few passing officers on the walk. Beebee trailed amiably behind.  
  
“Your appearance is much improved since the previous day cycle at this time,” Too-Onebee noted when he arrived in medbay.  
  
Poe snorted. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you lack charm, Toowie. The doc ready for me?”  
  
“She is completing a treatment for a minor training injury. I will record your vitals in the interim.”  
  
“Go right ahead.” Poe took a seat on the exam table and obediently stayed still while the droid scanned him.  
  
Too-Onebee gave a beep of approval. “All vitals within acceptable parameters for recovery period. The doctor will be with you shortly.”  
  
“Or now.” Kalonia strode into the room, snapping off a pair of gloves and depositing them in the waste bin. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“A hell of a lot better,” Poe answered. “I can’t remember the last time a stupid bug knocked me out like that.”  
  
“Your immune system probably hasn’t been in peak condition lately.” The doctor’s tone was serious but not unsympathetic. “This could have happened to anyone, but you give the ‘stupid bugs’ an open shot when you take on too much work and don’t get enough rest.”  
  
“There aren’t enough of us for all the work, doc.”  
  
“There will be fewer of us if we don’t take care of ourselves and each other.” Arms folded across her chest, she met his gaze squarely.  
  
Poe tipped his head toward her, conceding. “So how long do I need to stay out of the flight rotation?”  
  
Kalonia listened to his breathing and pressed long, practiced fingers against his jaw and throat. “Today and tomorrow are solid downtime—don’t even show your face in the command center or the pilots’ ready room. Then one more day of ground duty to be sure you won’t have difficulty with the pressure changes in the cockpit. After that, I want you to promise me you’ll delegate some of the training and the occasional recon, and you’re released back into the wild.”  
  
“Sounds fair. I promise I can find some way to keep myself out of trouble for a couple of days.”  
  
“I may check in with Finn every so often to make sure of that.”  
  
Poe decided to undertake a thorough inspection of the stitching on his shirtsleeve. “Finn’s spent enough time babysitting me this week. Let him have a break.”  
  
Kalonia raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain he wants a break?”  
  
“Doc, c’mon.” He’d intended it to sound dismissive. It came out like a plea.  
  
Her features softened, and he knew he was keeping no secrets. “Oh, sweet boy.” She took a seat next to him on the table, their shoulders touching.  
  
“You are the only one I haven’t yet convinced that I’m a grown man,” he grumbled with no real animosity. “Even the General more or less gave up calling me ‘mijo’ in private.”  
  
“That’s not because she’s lost interest in mothering you. That’s because she still feels guilty about what her perceived failings as a mother have done to you.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it took him a moment to process her meaning. When he did, he jerked his head up to stare wordlessly at her.  
  
“I’m inferring, not breaking her confidence. She’s been my friend for a very long time. And anyway, that’s off the subject.” The doctor reached out for the hand that had been worrying his sleeve. “Yes, you’re a grown man. You’re also the child I met at the hemodialysis clinic on Coruscant twenty-five years ago, as a favor to my friend Senator Organa. You forget how much I saw of your family in those last few months.”  
  
Poe swallowed. “I didn’t forget.”  
  
“You were so serious, so deliberate. I could tell you hadn’t always been that way, but by that point, you knew exactly when to turn on the smile or try to figure out what all the buttons did, and when to step back. You were just what your parents needed you to be, always. I imagine you’ve never really been told that.”  
  
The effort of holding back the suddenly-threatening tears was nearly painful. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Why tell me now?”  
  
“Because I also watched your father be just what your mother needed, and it was one of the most perfect examples of devotion I’d ever seen. You learn a lot about relationships when you see them being tested that way. I’ve seen people crumble under the strain, or lash out at each other, or simply fade away when they’re needed most. Your father never flinched. Not once.” The memory brought a soft smile to her eyes. “I even commented on it once. He just said, ‘What’s the alternative? Any other choice and I squander the time we have left. I’m selfish enough to want as much of our happiness as the universe will give me.’”  
  
“He’s always been better at that kind of perspective than I’ll ever be,” Poe admitted.  
  
“That may be, but you’re not the one who brought him to mind. Finn is.”  
  
She must have seen his defenses spring to life, because she tightened her grip on his hand to forestall any protest. “You couldn’t see him when he brought you in two days ago. You should know that he only left your side when the mission required it, and only because the droids kept him updated on your condition. He spent all night in a very uncomfortable chair, doing anything Toowie asked, reassuring you about the mission, telling you over and over that you were safe, that your pilots were safe, that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. He never sounded weary, never frustrated.” She held his gaze steadily. “So you can try to convince yourself that he couldn’t or shouldn’t care about you the way you’d like, or that he was just doing what he thinks a friend should do, but I watched him, and you will never convince me.”  
  
Poe tried to reply, more than once, and kept failing to find the right words. “The troopers,” he said at last, weakly. “They _had_ to look out for each other—they had to protect each other from literally _everything else._ It’s all he knows.”  
  
The doctor shook her head. “One more thing. Toowie got a data request from Finn earlier this morning. He wants to read up on bloodburn. Symptoms, risk factors, and availability of treatment on Yavin Four. I think you should ask him why.”  
  
_Force, Finn._ “I told him how low the odds—”  
  
“He knows. He’s not panicking. What he is doing is thinking about the future. While I’m well aware of how difficult that can be, living the lives we do, I think it’s clear he wants his future to include you.” She paused, as if to let the concept sink in. “I’ve watched you at Finn’s bedside and him at yours, Poe. What you have is special, but I suspect it’s nothing compared to what you _could_ have.”  
  
She leaned over, pressed a brief, firm kiss to his temple, and stood up. “I’m done interfering. Go. Make the most of your downtime, in whatever way you see fit.”  
  
As she departed, he gathered enough of his wits to point out, “That’s a pretty broad direc-”  
  
_“Within reason.”_  
  
For a few minutes after she’d gone, Poe just sat there, considering. What, really, was holding him back? Yes, Finn deserved to experience the galaxy beyond the war that had so far dominated his life. And yes, he deserved a chance to see and do whatever he chose without feeling anchored to the first person he’d met as a free man. But in the six months that they’d known each other, had Finn ever done anything that had felt insincere, or obligatory? He was here because he followed his conscience, for kriff’s sake. He’d turned down—politely, of course—more than one offer of companionship just within Poe’s earshot. He would be able to say no, even to Poe, if it was what he wanted.  
  
So what was it? Fear? Fear that Poe would lose what they had now, he supposed. Except he knew as well as anyone how fragile their very existence was. Choosing not to take risks was simply impossible.  
  
_“Any other choice and I squander the time we have.”_ He could almost hear his father’s voice saying it.  
  
Poe shoved his hands through his hair and looked down at Beebee, waiting patiently besides the exam table. “What do you think?” he asked. “Is it time to ‘fess up to Finn?”  
  
The droid’s response was immediate and unequivocal.  
  
“No, him reacting badly isn’t what I’m worried about. I just—have to be ready for much it’s gonna hurt if he would rather stay frien—”  
  
An emphatic bleep, followed by a summary of observations regarding Finn’s pulse rate correlated with proximity to Poe.  
  
Despite himself, Poe smiled. “Bee, you’re the best, but I don’t know if human relationships can be predicted by cardiac data with total accuracy.”  
  
Beebee’s reply suggested its master was being particularly dense, possibly on purpose.  
  
With a steadying breath, Poe stood up. “All right, I get it. Locate him, please.”

 

 

Finn tucked his datapad under his arm and excused himself from the briefing room, already thinking about the task ahead. Twenty-seven. It was both a large and a small number. Hundreds of troopers had fought on Byrien. Most had retreated; some had died. Twenty-seven had either surrendered or been too injured to take another option. The largest number of troopers Finn had debriefed from a single op so far had been eleven.  
  
Word was getting out, he had to believe. Fewer troopers were taking themselves out to avoid capture; more were gambling on being treated acceptably by the Resistance. Last time a few had even given them reliable intel, even if they hadn’t had much to offer.  
  
This time, though, one was a platoon sergeant. And twenty-six others. Each would meet one-on-one, face to face, with the man who had once been FN-2187. Maybe some of them would choose names as well.  
  
He had three long days ahead of him, including the transit time to and from the holding site. Before he left, he really wanted to see how Poe was doing, but he still wasn’t sure where the two of them stood in the light of day. Would it be better to give Poe these couple of days to get fully well, and then ask to talk? It wouldn’t be fair to make him contemplate the entire nature of their relationship right after being knocked so completely off his axis.  
  
Finn couldn’t be sure, though, if his reluctance was grounded more in empathy for his friend or his own doubts. He’d never yet been able to fully convince himself that Poe saw him differently from any of his other comrades. Yes, they spent most of their off-time together. True, Poe sought him out, did things to make him happy, watched him when he thought Finn wouldn’t notice. Were those the signs of something deeper? Or was Finn fooling himself to think that Commander Poe Dameron, Black Leader, friendly to all and beloved by the entire Resistance, could want anything more than friendship from him?  
  
_You’re being a coward._ If Finn asked and Poe turned him down, nothing would change. Poe’s compassion and sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to treat Finn any differently than before. Finn would have lost nothing.  
  
…Except hope, and the vision of the future that had now taken up residence in his mind. He’d be living and working beside the best man he’d ever met, watching his bright smiles, his easy grace, knowing with painful clarity what could never be.  
  
Finn tapped his code into the keypad to his quarters and opened the door. He had a bag already packed, but he—  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Blinking, he halted just inside the doorway. Poe was sitting on the edge of his desk, hands jammed into the pockets of his knit overshirt. The color had returned to his skin, and he looked well, if still a little faded. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said with a soft smile. “I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left, and I was afraid I’d fall asleep if I waited in my own room.”  
  
“It’s fine. I’m glad you did.” Finn set his datapad on the dresser, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Much better. I’m still grounded for a couple of days, but the timing on that is pretty good, operationally speaking.” Poe held his gaze easily, something that hadn’t been common these past few days. “You’ve got a pretty big job ahead, I hear.”  
  
“Yeah, more willing surrenders this time. It’s a good sign.”  
  
“Sure is.” Without looking away, Poe shifted topics. “Listen, I did a lot of talking yesterday, about stuff we hadn’t really gotten into before. And it all made sense in my head, but I guess I don’t know that it came out coherently. So, first of all, I wanted to say thank you, truly, for the last couple of days. Now you know how awkwardly I handle being taken care of, but having you there…it felt good. I mean, _I_ felt awful, but you made it almost nice. Just by being you. I’m really grateful.”  
  
“It wasn’t a hardship,” Finn felt compelled to point out, guarding against the potential for a ‘but’ in what was coming next.  
  
“I know, and that’s part of what makes this important.” Poe finally glanced away, down at the floor. He hadn’t brushed his hair after showering that morning; Finn had long since observed that it curled into rings at the crown of his head when he skipped that step. It was endearing, and it made him look far less like the fearless pilot and commander the rest of the base saw. _Focus,_ Finn told himself. Having gathered his thoughts, Poe continued, “You said the troopers did that kind of thing for each other, but not quite to that degree, right?”  
  
Still unsure of his footing, Finn allowed, “Right.”  
  
“And asking Too-Onebee for information about a disease I’m at risk of getting sometime in the future—I want to make sure I’m not misinterpreting here.”  
  
Finn clamped down on a wince. “If I overstepped—”  
  
“You didn’t, Finn,” Poe said, his voice unbearably gentle. “I just want to be clear. It’s important to me that you have the future you choose, whether I’m in it or not…but I hope I am. I really, really like being with you, even if I’m not at my best, because the way I look at it, we’ve already seen each other at close to our worst. I know we haven’t talked much about what you want out of a partner, long term—to be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought in a long time, either. Until you.” He drew his lip between his teeth, an unconscious habit that never failed to utterly disarm Finn. “Don’t feel like you have to say or do anything to answer. Just know that I’ve never felt as strongly about anyone as I do about you. However close you want me is how close I want to be.”  
  
For a moment, Finn almost forgot to breathe, as brilliant new possibilities unfolded in his mind.  
  
“As close I want,” he repeated, taking a step forward. “Now, or when the war is over, or both?”  
  
The tension in Poe’s features eased into something more like hope. “Both,” he answered tentatively. “I meant what I said about Yavin. I could live somewhere else, if you asked, but I would love for you to be there with me someday. Either as my friend, or—”  
  
Finn had heard enough. He surged forward and framed Poe’s face in his hands, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He felt a sharp intake of breath against his mouth, and then Poe was returning the kiss with the focused fervor that he normally only displayed in the cockpit. His arms slid around Finn, and when he leaned in he nearly lost his balance on the edge of the desk.  
  
Finn steadied him. “You’re not dizzy again, are you?”  
  
Poe shook his head, pressing his cheek to Finn’s. “Just clumsy. And overwhelmed.”  
  
The note of relief in his voice was so unlike his usual easy confidence that Finn couldn’t mask his surprise. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you for ages,” he breathed, unable to believe his good fortune. “I didn’t want to be the pathetic outsider you had to drag around—”  
  
“Stars, Finn, _never_.”  
  
“—but then you showed me your homeworld, and talked about family, all these amazing chances we could have, and you made me feel like I could have a place in your life even after all this is over. And I want that, Poe, I want it so badly…”  
  
“It’s yours, _querido,_ ” Poe murmured against his skin. “There is precious little in this galaxy that I can guarantee, but I swear to you that there is nothing I want more than to be with you. Wherever the path leads.”  
  
This time it was Poe who initiated the kiss, and it felt like a solemn vow. Finn closed his eyes and just reveled in the sensation. He didn’t know how to define ‘home,’ but if asked to describe it, his answer would begin and end with this man.  
  
“I have terrible timing,” Poe said faintly when they broke apart at last. “You have to leave in, what, an hour?”  
  
“Do I?” Not now, not when he’d just been handed this gift. “Maybe I could delay.”  
  
“No, it’s for the best. Get things wrapped up. My lung capacity could use the recovery time.” A flicker of mischief in his dark eyes soon faded into a warm glow. “Plus, it’ll give me time to call in a favor from the cargo loaders and borrow a droid to move our furniture.”  
  
“Move it where?”  
  
“Just to pull a swap. Make one room a living area and one a bedroom. Both our desks can go in here, and our beds in there…together?”  
  
Finn felt a too-wide grin threaten to split his face. “That would certainly give me something to look forward to when I get back.”  
  
“It’s not too much, too soon?”  
  
“I promise you, Poe, I’ve been wishing for something like this for months. All we’re doing here is moving forward.”  
  
Now, here, he could be certain that Poe’s heart-stopping smile belonged to him and him alone. “I like the sound of that.”

 

 

“Last call,” announced Bastian, making a note on the transport’s preflight checklist. “Departure in five.”  
  
Finn turned back to flash one last wink at Poe before climbing up the steep gangplank. Even though his—boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Best not to think about that one just now—was loitering back by the hangar, out of the flow of flightline traffic, Finn was still half convinced that the entire Resistance maintenance cadre knew why he was there.  
  
Bastian gave him a sidelong glance as he stowed his pack in the hold. “You are unnervingly chipper for a man about to spend five hours in a bucket of bolts that still smells like burnt wiring.”  
  
“Just happy to be doing my part to secure a better future for the galaxy.” Finn clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
His eyebrows lifting, the pilot turned to secure the gangplank and caught sight of his commander. “Oh- _ho_ ,” he commented, a knowing smile creeping across his face. “You and the boss, eh? At long last?”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Uh huh. Good for you, then. We’ll see if we can shave a few minutes off the return trip, just for the sake of young love.”  
  
“All right, all right, shut it.”  
  
Finn’s elation couldn’t be dampened, though. Now, for the first time, the fight he’d undertaken was for his own future as well as the galaxy’s. As he took his seat and cinched up his restraints, it occurred to him that, even though he was leaving, no other day in his life had ever felt more like a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of bloodburn comes from Claudia Gray's excellent novel _Bloodline_. Not many details are given about it, so I've extrapolated a bit and am treating it as a Star Wars equivalent to cancer.
> 
> The locations here are new creations and won't show up on any Star Wars galactic map; I didn't want to choose any established worlds for fear of contradicting some established EU canon somewhere, and it's a big galaxy, so.
> 
> Thanks for reading -- please come say hi on Tumblr (same user name) since I'm still, slowly, getting settled in over there!


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